Black Adjourn
by Eric Webs
Summary: In a future society where everyone is brainwashed into over equality and segregation to the point where they act like robots, a family who hides away because they are different from all the others will have to find a way to survive.


**CHAPTER 1**

I had always stayed behind, at home and watched them. Everyone got out of their perfectly shiny-black houses of chrome and descended down their black driveways. You could almost feel the syncopation of everyone's feet as they marched down the streets.

All the citizens wore black socks, black pants and grey t-shirts. They all had black hair and white sunglasses on. They wore straight faces that showed no emotion. Everyone was using a computer on their sunglasses that they controlled with their mind.

No one spoke, and you could only hear the slight hum of the ventilators filtering outside air into the dome. The semi-transparent dome was placed over everyone's houses in the town of Adjourn. Nothing one went in and nothing went out except for air.

In the land of Adjourn, everything was made out of black chrome. There were no other colors except for the brown haze that was visible outside the dome. All the houses on all the streets looked the same and were exactly the same height. All the streets were the same width.

Everyone was walking to the center of town to watch the "message" of the day. It was 7:00 when everyone reached the town center.

A hologram appeared in the town center, as it did every day, displaying the words to pledge. Everyone began reciting it, as if they had said it so many times before.

"We must all be equal, and strive for similarity," everyone chanted. The dull drone of everyone's voices echoed throughout the dome, creating an ominous tone.

When I was little, I remember looking at them in speculation, wondering why they recite such a phrase every morning. Looking down at everyone from my attic window and seeing the pale, selfless faces confused me.

"Our path is set in stone, and we must strive for what others want us to be." Everyone finished. There was a slow silence as the hum of everyone's voices finished echoing throughout the dome. The Hologram program made a few beeps and flashed to a different screen displaying "Dismissed". Everyone went back down the road to his or her respective houses.

As everyone marched back into their houses, they said very few words to one another. For they had to be verified by a government issued scanner, located at their doorsteps as a key to access their houses. It seemed to be some kind of validation technique, to get rid of those who were considered "outsiders". As far as I can remember, anyone who was found and not validated or invalid were sent into an underground stairway and never seen again.

Several flying robot cameras surveyed the entire scene. They swooped down and around looking for people who were invalid or tried to escape validation. When I was little, sometimes I could hear one of them approaching my window and I had to hide.

A little while after everyone started filing in, I could hear the door's beep as it electronically slid open. My parents filed into our house, one by one. I could hear them taking off they're computer glasses and my dad calling up to me.

"John, where are you?" my father asked as he ran upstairs. He peered into my room and then slowly walked in. "John, how many times do I have to tell you? I don't want you near that window!" My dad's voice decreased into a whisper, "you know those robots can catch you! When they verify you and see you are… You know, different. I may never see you again! I am not willing to risk that chance." My father wisped me out of the room.

"But Dad! I never get to see the rest of the world, like everyone else does! I will never be able to smell flowers or feel the fresh air. It's so dusty in here." I complained.

"Sit down. I need to tell you something." My Dad and I sat on the stairs to our house.

"Son, a lot has changed, it's the year 3002. Outside, you cannot enjoy the same things that are in the stories you are reading. Nobody writes stories


End file.
